Cry Ophelia
by Bards of Bedlam
Summary: Kevin and Scotty aren't cat people. Really, they aren't. Slash and flangst. Kevin/Scotty.
1. Nightmare

Okay, this is my first try at a _Brothers and Sisters_ fic, so it probably sucks. I'm sort of flailing in the dark here…These people are freaking hard to capture. But I'm gonna do my best.

And, I confess, the only reason I wrote this story is because I wanted to see some Scotty limpage. We got to see Kevin all whumped in 3.10 and 3.11, and now I want to see Kevin taking care of Scotty. (Scotty was _made_ to be limped!)

This plotline isn't the most original in the world, but I don't recall seeing one like it in this fandom yet, so I'm giving it a whirl. The story takes place some time into Kevin and Scotty's marriage; Kevin still works for Robert, and Scotty now owns a restaurant.

Please review, and let me know what I can do better in any future _Brothers and Sisters_ fics I might write!

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own **_**Brothers and Sisters**_** or any of its characters. I can't even be sure I actually own this plot. You may sue me if you wish, but you won't get anywhere. All I have is my **_**Cal Leandros**_** book series, which you will not get because I will keep them clutched firmly to my chest and away from the authorities as I am shuffled from prison cell to prison cell.**

Title: Cry Ophelia

Fandom: Brothers and Sisters

Genre: Romance / Drama / Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Kevin/Scotty

Rating: T

Summary: Kevin and Scotty aren't cat people. Really, they aren't.

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**Chapter 1—It Happened One Night**

The telephone conversation that night had the easy familiarity of one that had been revisited several hundred times over the course of a relationship. The barbs that were traded were anything but insulting, the jokes anything but amusing, and the love in every word a testament to the bond that was shared by the speakers.

"Where are you? I made your reservation for, like, ten minutes ago."

Kevin chuckled. "Somehow, I don't think getting a table in my husband's restaurant is going to be a terribly large inconvenience for the establishment." He laughed again, quietly, as he could practically hear Scotty's eyes rolling at the other end of the line.

"Y'know, I'm beginning to think you're taking me for granted," Scotty replied, a smile in his voice. "Seriously, you were supposed to be out of there an hour ago, and you weren't answering any of my calls. I was worried."

Kevin felt a quick stab of guilt. "I'm sorry. I got pulled into a meeting. Someone's trying to bring a lawsuit against Robert—I'd give you details if I didn't think they would put you to sleep—so we've been working on a retaliation strategy for the last hour and a half."

"Anything serious?"

"Nothing I can't handle, but we're nowhere close to finishing. I don't think I'll be able to get out of here for awhile."

Scotty groaned. "Kevin…"

"I know, I know, I suck. Again. I'm sorry."

Silence.

"I'll make it up to you," Kevin wheedled.

Scotty sighed heavily. "Okay, new plan. There's no one in here tonight since everyone's at home watching the Super Bowl, so I was planning on closing up shop a little early. Why don't I go home, whip us up a fabulous gourmet meal, and you can grab a bottle of wine on your way home? We'll have a nice, quiet night in."

Kevin smiled. "Deal. White or red?"

"White, I think. It goes so much better with chicken. See you in…two hours?"

"Yes you will. Bye."

"Bye."

XXX

Scotty sighed heavily as he hung up the phone. He really wished he could be irritated with his husband, but to be fair, he'd known what he was getting into when he'd agreed to marry a workaholic lawyer. Besides, in all honesty, he would probably enjoy a romantic evening at home far more than he would have enjoyed dinner at his own restaurant and whatever movie was playing at the closest cinema.

So it was with a light heart and a song on his lips that Scotty left the restaurant an hour later. The (admittedly rather tuneless) whistling was put to a sudden halt, however, when he accidentally kicked something just outside the door—something tiny, soft, and very much alive. Frowning slightly, he turned to set the two paper bags he carried on the steps of the restaurant, then peered at the ground around his feet to see what he had walked into. His eyes focused in the dark just in time to see the tip of a tiny, white tail disappearing around the corner of the building into the alleyway next to it.

"Here, kitty, kitty," Scotty called softly, following the kitten and feeling rather guilty. "I'm sorry I stepped on you…"

It didn't take him long to find the kitten; it had proceeded to the very back of the alleyway, jumping on top of a long-forgotten crate. The little creature was entirely white except for a black front paw and a splash of black on its nose, and it was just settling down next to a coal-black, slightly smaller kitten that was already curled up on the crate.

Scotty couldn't help grinning at the sight. He hadn't ever really considered himself a cat person—or, really, an animal person in general—but even the ever-cynical Kevin would have melted at this scene.

Slowly approaching the kittens, he said softly, "Hey, kitties… Where's your mama, huh?"

The white kitten turned its head up to him with trusting eyes, and Scotty fancied that he saw a question there. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch her (he had decided that it was a her), and she allowed it, making a quiet noise that sounded more like a chirp than anything else.

Smiling, he reached into his pocket with the hand that wasn't on the kitten, and hit the number one on his speed dial. The phone rang several times, then went to voicemail, as Scotty had expected it to.

"Hey, Kev. It's me again, your loving husband. Just wanted to give you a heads up. I just left the restaurant, so I should be home in ten minutes or so if traffic is friendly, and I have an extra little surprise for you when you get home. See you there. Love you."

Hanging up, he then reached out to pull a kitten into each hand, but froze when he heard something behind him—the light scrabble of shoes over asphalt. Standing, he turned, and felt his heart drop straight to his feet.

He didn't recognize the two men standing before him, but he didn't need to know them to decipher the identical looks of disgust on their faces. They stood there staring at him for a long moment, and he gazed resolutely back, though he was trembling from head to toe.

Finally, the shorter of the two men broke the silence. "Don't suppose you have any money on you, Master Chef?"

_Clever_.

Scotty swallowed, and nodded, reaching into his jacket; he found nothing besides his driver's license, and remembered that he'd left his wallet at home because he hadn't thought he would need it. Swallowing again, he said hoarsely, "I don't have my wallet. I left it at home."

The man grinned, and the glint in his eyes made Scotty shift nervously. "I was _so_ hoping you'd say that."

Then his fist connected squarely with Scotty's solar plexus. He went down hard.

Mercifully, it only took one solid strike to the head to send him swirling off into the dark…

XXX

"Ha!"

Robert jumped and swiveled his chair away from his desk, half-turning it to look over at his brother-in-law. "I wasn't asleep."

Kevin ignored this rather transparent statement and stood to drop a thick sheaf of papers on Robert's desk. "I've got our angle and something resembling a plan. Read over it, and if you have any questions…save them for tomorrow, because I have a very annoyed husband waiting for me at home."

"Oh, yeah, it's your anniversary tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and Scotty had this whole pre-anniversary evening planned. He just _had_ to put his two cents in after I told him about my vacation plans for the week, and then I missed dinner, so…"

"Say no more. If Scotty is anything like your sister, you're lucky to be alive right now. Don't push your luck."

Kevin laughed at that. "Night, Robert."

"Night."

XXX

When Kevin got home, it was to find the house dark and silent; Scotty obviously hadn't gotten back yet. Frowning, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and checked the voicemail he had received half an hour before. Confirming that he'd gotten the time of the message right, he frowned more deeply; his husband should be home by now.

Well, maybe he'd just gotten caught up at the restaurant.

After only a moment's thought, Kevin decided to do what any decent husband would do, and meet Scotty at the restaurant. They might miss each other, but it was worth a try.

As he left the house, he tried to tell himself that it was simply a hope of surprising his husband, and not the paranoid knots in his stomach, that were sending him out into the night.

XXX

When Kevin reached the restaurant, it was to find the place dark, with the "Closed" sign on the door and two full paper bags on the step. Frowning, he pulled out his cell phone and hit the number one on his speed dial for the fourth time, getting the voicemail once again.

He had just slammed the phone shut with a frustrated growl when he felt something small, delicate, and unmistakably breathing rub up against his ankle. He looked down, and jumped back as though he had just stepped in something disgusting; he _hated_ cats. And this one was white, which meant it would get dirty more easily; Kevin didn't like dirt, either.

The kitten obviously didn't know this, however, because it darted forward to wrap itself around his leg again, then stepped back to sit and look at him with wide eyes. Kevin stared back, then blinked as it turned and walked calmly towards the alleyway next to the restaurant. Unsure exactly why he was doing it, Kevin followed.

XXX

Kevin was fairly certain that all of his worst nightmares were coming true at once.

Not that Kevin Walker was exactly prone to nighttime flights of fancy. Nightmares were frivolous things, and he simply didn't have time for them. On the rare occasion that he actually gave himself time to sleep, it was so deep that it was more reminiscent of unconsciousness than ordinary slumber.

Not anymore.

Now, Kevin would be shocked if he managed to ever sleep again; he _knew_ he would never do so without being awakened by terrifying memories of the sight he'd just been witness to.

He was still sitting in one of the waiting room's small, uncomfortable plastic chairs, staring blankly at his cell phone, when Nora—the only person he'd managed to force himself to call—came rushing into the waiting room. She immediately spotted him; even if he hadn't been the only person in the room, her motherly instincts would have had her sitting next to him before he even noticed she was there.

Some time after his mother's arrival, Kevin realized that she had been talking to him for the past several minutes, and he forced himself to raise his eyes to hers.

"Sweetheart, come on, now. I need you to talk to me. What happened?"

Kevin blinked at her, trying to force his eyes to focus. When he finally spoke, his voice came out scratchy and hoarse. That couldn't be right, could it? He hadn't cried…

"…Scotty's hurt."

"Yes, dear, I know that much. How did Scotty _get_ hurt?"

Kevin blinked again, more slowly this time. "I don't know."

Nora reached out to rest her hand on his shoulder. "That's okay."

They said nothing else for quite some time. Then…

"Sweetie, is your bag moving?"

Kevin looked momentarily confused, then slightly horrified. "Oh, no…I _didn't_…" He leaned over and quickly unzipped the over-the-shoulder bag he'd carried home with him. It was supposed to hold a (comparatively) thin file folder, and nothing else, but that was no longer the case.

Nora made a surprised noise as the tiny, white kitten jumped out onto the floor of the waiting room, followed by the slightly smaller black one.

"…I brought them with me." Kevin's voice was slightly surprised, slightly confused, but mostly numb. "It seemed important at the time…"

Nora smiled slightly. "I'm sure it did."

"_Now_ what am I going to do with them?" He leaned down to pull the black one into his lap, as the white one wrapped itself around his ankle, as she seemed to be so fond of doing. He stroked the kitten in his lap absently for awhile, then looked over at his mother. "Mom, do you think you could take them back to the house? Just for the night?"

"Oh, no, honey… I just got here. I should stay… I can't leave, I can't just…my son is—"

"I'm not kicking you out, Mom. I'm not. I just don't want us to get caught with animals in here. I'm pretty sure it's against the rules. Just…run to the store and grab some food and a cat box and litter, and close them up in a room somewhere for the night. I'll take them to a shelter tomorrow, or something."

"Well, it's no problem, Kevin, you know that, but…I really don't think I should leave."

"Don't leave for the night. Just…just for half an hour. Just to get them situated. Please?" Kevin didn't know why this was so important to him, but his tone was growing increasingly urgent.

Nora studied him intently for a moment, then nodded. "All right. All right, I'll be back soon, okay?" She leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek, waved away his offer of his wallet, extracted the kittens from his hands and around his leg, and left the room reluctantly.

Kevin watched her go, and wondered if he should be crying or not. Yes, he should, he decided, as he pulled out his cell phone to make more calls.


	2. Jitters

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own **_**Brothers and Sisters**_** or any of its characters. I can't even be sure I actually own this plot. You may sue me if you wish, but you won't get anywhere. All I have is my **_**Cal Leandros**_** book series, which you will not get because I will keep them clutched firmly to my chest and away from the authorities as I am shuffled from prison cell to prison cell.**

Title: Cry Ophelia

Fandom: Brothers and Sisters

Genre: Romance / Drama / Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Kevin/Scotty

Rating: T

Summary: Kevin and Scotty aren't cat people. Really, they aren't.

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**Chapter 2—Jitters**

The rest of the Walker family arrived a little after ten, straggling in one-by-one—first Kitty and Robert, followed by Justin, then Nora again (this time bringing Saul with her), then Tommy and Julia, Sarah with her children, and finally Rebecca.

Kevin accepted their hugs without comment and answered their questions as best he could, but as no one had been out to tell him anything yet, there really wasn't much he could say.

He didn't know whether he should be relieved about that or not.

He lost track of how many coffee runs he made that night.

The first one was after the doctor came out to talk to them the first time. Kevin only managed to catch snippets of the conversation—"serious head injury," "blunt object," "stab wounds," "transfusion"…

Kevin wanted to strangle him.

The doctor left, and Kevin turned to his family and asked (quite calmly, he thought), "Anyone want some coffee?"

_Anyone happen to be a blood type match for my nearly-dead husband?_

The second one was after Kevin tried for the fourth time to contact Scotty's parents. If anyone would be a match for Scotty, it was them.

They didn't answer. Kevin idly wondered if they were screening his calls.

The third one was after Justin was found to have the same blood type as Scotty, and went off with a nurse to have his blood taken. It was probably a good thing that it was Justin, Kevin decided, because Justin was used to having needles in his veins.

_That wasn't nice. I should apologize._

It wasn't, and he did. Justin looked at him like he was insane, and Kevin realized that his brother didn't know what he was apologizing for.

After that, all the coffee runs blurred into one long, endless stream of black liquid and button pushing. He seemed to spend more time in front of the vending machine than with his family. That didn't seem right, so he abandoned his umpteenth cup and went back to them.

XXX

It was around two in the morning when the doctor saw fit to return to them again. He looked tired, and there was blood all over his scrubs.

_Scotty's blood._

This time, Kevin was more focused, and he managed to keep up his half of the conversation with the doctor. The rest of the family stayed back and watched; Tommy and Saul appeared to be holding Nora back.

"How is he?" The words echoed hollowly in Kevin's ears, but he was certain he'd been the one to speak them.

"Well, the surgery went as smoothly as can be expected. The lacerations in his chest and stomach required some pretty serious stitching, and there was some internal bleeding, but we managed to stop it. It looks like he was beaten with some sort of blunt instrument—it could have been anything from a baseball bat to a crowbar, it's hard to tell—and then stabbed with your everyday, illegal switchblade."

"God…" Kevin hadn't said that. Someone behind him had—maybe Kitty? Or Sarah?

"We've also done a transfusion using your brother's blood. All in all, he's…stable."

"Well…that's good, right?" _Yes, that one was me. I'm sure of it._ Kevin congratulated himself on having the presence of mind to ask the right question.

"Well…yes, Mr. Walker, stable is good. But…"

Kevin waited patiently.

"Well, the head injury… It's a serious one."

"But…but he'll be fine, right? He just needs some rest, right?"

"Rest wouldn't hurt, no, but…that rest would be better taken _after_ he wakes up."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," the doctor began, then hesitated. "I'm saying, the sooner he wakes up, the better I'll feel about his chances."

_His…__chances__?_

The rest of a conversation was the same blur as the first one had been. The doctor finally left, and Kevin turned back to his family and told them they could go if they wanted to—he would be fine. In fact, he _demanded_ that they go, so go they did—though Nora had to be herded/dragged out of the room by the combined efforts of every male in the family and Kitty's indignant squawking in the background.

Later, Kevin found out that he had "held it together remarkably well." According to his family, he had said things he didn't remember saying, done things he didn't remember doing…been extraordinarily self-possessed the entire time. Talked about legal things, or some such nonsense.

He hated himself a little for that.

Now, with his family gone, he stood against the wall on shaking legs, staring down into a paper mug from the vending machine and wondering absently if anyone had ever drowned themselves in a cup of coffee.

The sun came up, and Kevin fell asleep curled up in a chair.

He was shaken awake at around four in the morning by a nurse, who finally allowed him to see Scotty.

XXX

Scotty was feeling…rather pleasant, actually. Whatever he was lying on was soft, and friendly, and there was a nice, blurry sort of haze to everything. He wasn't floating—he was sure of that—but he was light enough that he could, if he wanted to.

He wanted to.

_Why can't I?_

Then, distantly, he felt the brief tightening of a hand around his, and he started to lose his grip on the floaty feeling.

_No, wait! I don't wanna go back… It's nice here…_

The hand clutched insistently, pulling him back towards the world, and with that world came a distant, achy feeling. The sensation grew steadily more pronounced with each passing minute.

Then, the sensation became a blinding, relentless sort of pain, and Scotty came crashing ruthlessly back to earth.

XXX

Aftershave.

That was the first thing he became aware of—the sharp scent of Kevin's aftershave. Then the softer, more homey aroma of coffee, then the feel of a hand gently holding his.

_Oh yeah, __that's__ why._

Scotty forced his eyes open, then immediately regretted it as even that small movement sent brutal ripples of pain through his entire body.

His husband jerked awake immediately, which didn't make sense to Scotty at first, until he realized that he must have whimpered at the pain. Then Kevin was leaning towards him to press a kiss to his forehead; he had opened his arms first—intending to pull his lover into a hug, Scotty knew—before rethinking that course of action. Kevin's lips were moving, but Scotty was having trouble processing the words; by the expression on the man's face, though, and the way he pressed one of Scotty's hands to his lips and trembled, it was obvious that he'd been through quite a lot of stress and trauma in a very short time.

"Kev…what happened?" His voice was scratchy and hoarse, and it hurt to talk, but he managed, though he suspected he may have slurred slightly.

"Um…you were mugged." That wasn't the whole story—it was painfully obvious even to the half-asleep Scotty—but he let it go for now. "How do you feel?"

Scotty closed his eyes. "Peachy. How long…?"

"Twenty-three hours and…" Kevin looked at the clock. "Thirty-eight minutes from the time I found you, if the clock on my cell and the clock on the wall over there are set for the same time. But the…mugging, I think it happened about half an hour before…before we brought you in." He swallowed hard, and stood. "I'll go find a doctor, okay? Is that all right?"

Scotty forced himself to nod, and Kevin left.

XXX

After a thorough examination, Scotty was pronounced "probably out of the woods, for now" and then left alone with Kevin.

The rest of the Walker clan showed up the minute visiting hours started, and by then, Scotty was somewhat more alert. Kevin was sitting next to him, holding his hand tightly and reading a newspaper, when everyone trouped in at once.

Kevin couldn't imagine enjoying a mass stampede by the Walker clan, but it obviously brightened Scotty's day, so who was he to judge?

A happy hour passed with laughter and conversation and a delicious home-cooked breakfast that Nora had brought with her in the largest picnic basket in the known universe, and the events of the evening before slowly began to fade from their minds.

At about ten-thirty, Kevin smiled and excused himself to go use the co-ed bathroom on the other side of the hall, his family's laughter and Scotty's faint chuckles echoing behind him as he closed the door.

XXX

"Kevin's been gone awhile," Kitty commented about half an hour later. "Think I should go check on him?"

"No, I'll go," Nora replied, standing. "You wouldn't want to leave off your completely unjustified and utterly inaccurate political rants. I'll be right back."

The resentful protests followed her out the door.

Nora knocked softly on the door to the restroom and, receiving no response, entered.

The sight before absolutely her broke her heart.

Kevin was sitting on the floor in the corner, his face hidden in his knees, which were pulled up against his chest with his arms wrapped around them. He was shaking silently, and didn't seem to notice his mother's presence.

Walking slowly over to her son, Nora knelt down beside him and reached out to pull him into her arms. He didn't even put up a pretense of fighting; he simply sank against her, buried his face into her chest, and started to sob in earnest. She rocked him gently, making quiet crooning noises in her throat, just as she had years before when he'd come home from school crying and sporting a black eye because a group of older boys had called him a fag and a queer and beaten him up.

"I almost lost him, Mommy," he whispered through the tears, choking on the words.

"But you didn't."

For some reason, that only made him cry harder.

It was at least forty-five minutes before the torrents of tears finally subsided. He hiccupped quietly as he leaned away and resumed his place with his back against the wall, accepting the piece of toilet paper that Nora offered him to wipe his face.

"Are you all right?"

Kevin didn't say anything. He couldn't lie, but telling the truth would only make her worry more, so he settled for silence.

Nora read him like a book, and turned so that she was sitting against the wall, too, putting her arm around his shoulders.

"I didn't tell him I loved him."

Nora blinked. "What?"

"Scotty and I…we were talking on the phone that night. We were supposed to go out for our pre-anniversary dinner, but I was late because I'd gotten pulled into a meeting. Scotty called me wanting to know where I was, and we changed our plans to fit my schedule, and when we hung up…I just said goodbye. I didn't tell him I loved him, or anything..."

The tears came back, but this time, it was only a few of them, and Kevin wiped them resolutely away.

Nora put her other arm around him to pull him into a hug. "He knows, sweetie. I promise. He knows."


	3. Ashes

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own **_**Brothers and Sisters**_** or any of its characters. I can't even be sure I actually own this plot. You may sue me if you wish, but you won't get anywhere. All I have is my **_**Cal Leandros**_** book series, which you will not get because I will keep them clutched firmly to my chest and away from the authorities as I am shuffled from prison cell to prison cell.**

Title: Cry Ophelia

Fandom: Brothers and Sisters

Genre: Romance / Drama / Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Kevin/Scotty

Rating: T

Summary: Kevin and Scotty aren't cat people. Really, they aren't.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Chapter Three—Ashes**

Kevin sighed and fidgeted, staring at the clock and willing it to move faster. He didn't even know why he'd bothered to show up to work today; it wasn't as though he'd been able to concentrate on anything. He'd been virtually worthless for the entire morning.

The phone rang, and he snatched for it at an almost embarrassing speed. "Kevin Walker."

"I'm bored."

Kevin laughed into the phone. Here was the anticipated phone call from Scotty, which he took as a sign that it was time to call it a day. "Hey, honey. I've been waiting for you to call. How're you feeling?"

"Like crap. I hurt everywhere, the food is terrible, the bed is uncomfortable, and I'm _bored as hell_, Kevin. Save me!"

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving right now. I'll be there in twenty minutes, okay? You'll be out of there in no time."

"Okay. Good. See you soon."

"Yes you will. Love you."

"I love you, too."

He had ended every conversation with those words lately. Every single one.

XXX

"Whoa. Careful. Watch your step… Here we go."

Scotty winced as he was finally deposited on the sofa; Kevin had practically had to carry him the last few steps from their car to the living room, he was so pain-riddled and floating in a drug-induced haze.

He was out like a light the second he hit the cushions, and by the time he awoke, the windows were darkening and a few stars had appeared in the sky outside them.

The room was dim—Kevin hadn't turned any lights on, for which Scotty was profoundly grateful—so he felt more than saw that he had been covered at some point by a quilt from their bed. He also felt the warm weight of two kittens (Tika and Gypsy, he had decided to name them) against his side, and he smiled slightly at the feeling.

"Kevin?"

His husband was next to him instantaneously, carrying a tray that held a bowl of soup, a glass of water, a package of crackers, a spoon, some napkins, and—most importantly at this particular moment—a very friendly-looking painkiller.

"Meds first, then food," Kevin ordered in his I'm-a-lawyer-and-this-argument-is-beyond-reproach voice after seeing the pain that lined his lover's face. Scotty didn't protest, earning himself a welcome reduction in the aches that plagued him, as well as an even more welcome kiss.

"Mmm, you made my favorite," Scotty murmured, sitting up slowly and smiling happily. His movement dislodged the kittens; Gypsy, the black one, only protested with a quiet meow before curling back up on the vacated cushion, but Tika was clearly annoyed and jumped down to wrap herself around Kevin's leg instead.

"Well, I _tried_ to make your favorite. I don't think I'm quite at your level in the kitchen, but I did try." Kevin leaned over to scoop Tika into one hand, stroking her absently. "Eat up."

Scotty chuckled and gave him another appreciative kiss, but found that food interested him more than talk just now.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" he finally remembered to ask, halfway through the soup.

Kevin shook his head. "Not hungry."

Scotty's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't press the issue as he finished his dinner and sighed happily. "God, that was good. I'd forgotten what real food tastes like…"

Kevin smiled. "Glad you liked it." Standing, he placed Tika on the sofa next to her sister and went to take the tray back to the kitchen. Scotty watched him go, a stupid, silly grin on his face as he moved to stretch back out on the couch, lifting the kittens and placing them next to him again.

Scotty secretly loved it when Kevin took care of him. The man pretended to be abrasive, cranky, maybe even a little unfeeling, but whenever his husband needed him for even the smallest reason, Kevin was housebound until Scotty finally got fed up with it and forced him out the door and back to his life.

Scotty snorted at that thought; at this point, he would be lucky if he ever got Kevin out of the house again.

That thought held an appealing quality…

In the kitchen, the sink shut off, and after the telltale clink and clatter of dishes being put away, Kevin returned to the living room and sat down on the couch, placing the remote in Scotty's hand. Scotty smiled and turned on the television, then reached out to pull insistently at the other's arm. Kevin smiled, and after some careful maneuvering and gentle shifting, he came to a rest on his side, squashed between Scotty and the back of the couch with one arm wrapped lightly around his husband's waist.

"Is this okay? Does it hurt?"

Scotty shook his head and sighed in contentment, then began to flip through the channels.

He fell asleep quickly, his head tipping forward onto Kevin's arm as he began to snore quietly. Kevin made a face—his arm was going to be absolutely worthless come morning—but he couldn't bring himself to move and wake Scotty, so he just dropped his head onto the couch cushion and let it be.

Turning off the television, he dropped the remote onto the floor—Scotty stirred slightly at the clattering noise, but didn't wake—and leaned forward to bury his face in his love's hair and close his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath hitching slightly. "I'm so sorry…"

Scotty and the kittens all slept deeply and easily that night.

Kevin didn't sleep at all.

XXX

Scotty had begun to think that things were getting slightly out of hand.

When he had first come home from the hospital, he hadn't questioned Kevin's behavior—the refusal of all food, his obvious inability to sleep through the night, his less-than-enthusiastic response when Scotty tried to get him out of the house and back into the world… He had simply written it off as stress and bad memories. Kevin deserved to be less than okay; he'd found his husband lying crumpled and bleeding on the ground in an alleyway, for God's sake.

But enough was enough.

It had been over a week since Scotty had seen Kevin eat anything besides some soup or a sandwich every twenty-four hours or so. Over a week since he'd woken up to see Kevin still sleeping, or at least resting peacefully, beside him. Over a week since Kevin had left the house for more than a few minutes at a time; he went out to get the mail, grab the newspaper, and once he had gone on a fifteen-minute trip to the nearest market to buy some essentials, but that was it.

He did his work from home, received phone calls and faxes and e-mails from the office, and talked to his mother once a day and one sibling or another at least six times throughout the week, but other than that, he had virtually no contact with the outside world. And what was more, he seemed perfectly content with that—perfectly content not to let Scotty out of his sight or his mind for more than half an hour at a time.

That worried Scotty. It worried him greatly.

He broached the subject carefully at dinner, on the second Monday after the attack. Ignoring Kevin's protests, he had remained on his feet and moving long enough to make a carb-laden dinner of lasagna, a salad with his own special Caesar dressing, and homemade rolls. Then, having deftly proven that he was perfectly capable of handling himself while Kevin was out of the house, he asked his husband to set the table, decided to forgo a pain pill, and sat gingerly down at the table.

"I could have done this, you know," Kevin said with a pout.

Scotty grinned. "No, you couldn't have."

Kevin arranged his expression to look suitably offended, his eyes sparkling. "What are you saying to me, Mr. Wandell? Are you suggesting that your prowess in the kitchen exceeds my own?"

"…No, I'm suggesting that you're a horrible cook."

Kevin rolled his eyes and stabbed savagely at his lasagna. "I'm a wonderful cook."

"Yes, you're a wonderful cook, but you're a _terrible_ chef."

"…What the hell does that mean?"

Scotty blinked. "I have no idea."

"Oh. Okay. As long as you're thinking clearly and you're in full possession of your faculties, who am I to judge? Pass the salad."

"You know, you really don't need to worry so much anymore," Scotty said, passing the salad as asked. "It's been weeks, and I'm perfectly fine on my own now, if you wanna go back to work…"

"Well, I _wasn't_ worried before I came into the kitchen and found you mind-melding with the lasagna…"

"Kevin, that's not fair! You _have_ to watch it or it'll burn!"

"Uh-huh. That's not normal human behavior."

Scotty huffed, but abandoned the issue in favor of a more pressing one. "Seriously, Kevin. You're worried about me. I get that. I love you for that. But…you're not eating. You're not sleeping. You never leave the house, you never even leave me on my own for more than half an hour, and—"

"Do you feel crowded? Is that it? Because I can just go in another room when you want some alone time—"

"N— Kevin, that's not it at all, I promise. I love you being here, I really do, but…it's getting out of hand. This is…a _lot_ more than just concern about my health. I'm worried about you."

Kevin didn't say anything.

"Come on, Kev. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

Kevin gave him his best carefree grin. "Nothing. You done eating?"

"…No, I just started."

"Oh. Okay. Well, keep eating. I'm just gonna go finish up some work, see if I can get ahead, by some miracle."

"But you've hardly touched your dinner."

Kevin shrugged. "Not really hungry, I guess. But we can save it for later, right? Because it's delicious, and I'll probably be starving later." He stood up and leaned over to kiss Scotty's cheek. "Call me when you're done eating and I'll do the dishes. I love you."

That was all he said before he turned and left the room, Scotty's eyes following him sadly.

XXX

Scotty didn't broach the subject again over the next few days, nor did he stop secretly enjoying how attentive Kevin was to him. True, he was getting around much better, and—though his healing ribs ached incessantly, his stitches pulled uncomfortably at sudden movements, and the "severe head injury" was still making its severity known if left without a painkiller for too long—he didn't really need the assistance that was being offered at every turn, but he still appreciated (and loved) the attention.

But he was still worried sick about Kevin, whose habits did not improve at all in the days that followed their conversation.

He was hesitant to bring it up again, however, because he wasn't sure if that would annoy Kevin or not.

So Scotty simply kept quiet, and the topic remained buried until that Thursday, when Scotty entered their bedroom to find Kevin passed out on the bed, every inch of the area around him littered with papers and his laptop open on the blankets beside him. The kittens were nowhere to be seen; apparently they knew that this wasn't the place to be tonight if they were looking for attention.

Smiling slightly, Scotty crept over to the bed and gathered up the papers, saved Kevin's work, closed the laptop, and placed everything on the bedside table.

His back was still turned when he heard the noise.

It was just a quiet shift in breathing at first, but a whimper quickly followed it. Scotty turned to see that Kevin's brow was furrowed, and he was tossing nervously amongst the blankets; they quickly became tangled and messy as he balled his fists around them.

Then Scotty heard his name, and that nearly undid him.

Trembling slightly, he went over to the bed and sat on the edge. He curled his hands into fists on his knees, thinking it unwise to touch his husband at the moment. "Kevin, I'm right here. It's okay, you're just having a nightmare. Wake up."

The crease in Kevin's forehead grew deeper, and he whimpered again.

"Come on, honey, it's okay. Wake up now, it's all right. I'm okay."

Kevin tossed restlessly once more, his hand stretching out to rest on the empty pillow beside him; his eyes flew open, and he sat up, choking on his own breath.

Scotty did touch him now, resting one hand lightly on his back between his shoulder blades to rub soft, soothing circles against his skin through his shirt. "You okay?"

Kevin looked over at him. "You weren't there," he gasped. There was no accusation in the words; it was more like he'd just realized something. "I fell asleep and you weren't there."

Then it hit Scotty, too; since The Incident (as Scotty now dubbed it in his mind), Kevin had only managed to find even the slightest peace when he had Scotty in his arms. He'd fallen asleep without that anchor for the first time, and the nightmare had started immediately.

Scotty moved to lean back against the headboard, taking Kevin with him. Then he shifted so that he was in front of his husband, leaning back against the strong chest, and pulled the other man's arms around him so that he was wrapped snugly in his Kevin blanket.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Kevin didn't say anything. He just pressed a kiss against the mop of brown hair in front of him and shook silently. Scotty waited patiently.

"I forgot to tell you I loved you."

Scotty blinked. "Huh?"

"That…that night. When we were on the phone. I just said 'bye' and hung up, and I didn't say 'I love you.' And…if you hadn't…made it…" His breathing hitched noticeably, but he forced himself to continue. "If you hadn't made it, the last thing I would have said to you would have been 'goodbye.' And…that would mean it was forever, and…and you wouldn't have known."

"Oh, Kevin…" Scotty had to force himself to speak around the lump in his throat. "You don't think I get it? You don't think I _know_?"

"I…wonder sometimes…" He choked on the words, but continued. "When I found you…you were just lying there, all bruised and pale and covered in red. In your own blood. I thought you must have lost all of it, there was just so much… I didn't know how you could possibly have any left. And I…I knelt down in it, because I wanted to hold you, and…you were so cold. And for a minute, I thought you were…" This time, he lost the will to continue, and fell silent for several minutes. "And I can't stop remembering. I keep hoping that if I spend enough time with you, if I don't let you out of my sight, if I can touch you and hold you and talk to you enough…maybe it'll sink in that you're still alive, that it isn't just me playing pretend. And…maybe then I can walk out the door—let _you_ walk out the door—without…without being afraid that that's the last time I'm ever going to see you again."

Scotty remained silent for a long time. Then, all of a sudden, he was moving; ignoring the pain that flared through him, he turned and pulled Kevin into a bruising kiss. He kissed the man senseless—that was the only possible explanation for the glazed look that came into his eyes before they fluttered closed—before pulling back and whispering, "This is real, Kevin. I promise. It's real, I'm real, and I'm never leaving you. _Ever_. I promise."

"You'd better not," Kevin muttered. "In fact, I demand to go first."

Scotty laughed shakily and gave him another, much gentler kiss. "Okay, honey. You can go first." Then his expression grew serious, and he cupped Kevin's face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. "Okay?"

Kevin thought about lying, but he simply didn't have the strength to anymore. "No. But…I think I can sleep now. Come here." And he moved to stretch out on the bed, pulling the blankets over them both before wrapping his arms back around Scotty.

"I love you, Kevin," the taller man said firmly. "So much… Forever."

Kevin smiled and pressed a kiss to Scotty's forehead, but didn't say anything; he realized that he might have worn out the words in the past couple of weeks, and he didn't want them to lose their meaning.

Silence reigned in the room, and Kevin began to think Scotty was asleep. Then…

"Kevin?"

"Hmm?"

"Next time you start to think about that night…don't focus on the part in the alley. Focus on the good part. On me coming back. Because I did, and I always will."

And he did. From that night on, whenever dreams about The Incident resurfaced, they always ended with Scotty coming back…coming home.

Home to him.


End file.
